Day 1, nothing new. Life is a grind. I find that every day gets shorter and shorter, as if the hands that wind the clocks of time are aware of how much of it I need, and how little of it I have. The clock mocks me. I ask it for 5 minutes here, and another 5 there, yet the only thing it can do is speed up, leaving me clutching at straws. Work. School. Life. The three run into each other, creating an amalgum of stress, leaving me petrified and immobile. I have reached a state where I have so much going on, I am able to accomplish none of it. My brain and schedule are saturated to the point that I can alleviate the pressure in neither. The psychological profession has offered a daily respite in the form of pink and white capsules, while the good people of Milwaukee and St Louis provide the sweet amber nector which eases the transition from the serenity of Friday night, to the impending doom of Monday morning. All along, I keep plugging. Grinding. Shuffling through each day, the gleam of that brass ring becoming more pronounced each day. They say success is a journey, not a destination, and I am learning that first hand. For all my whining, I am thankful. For health, and family, and love. These joys trump any petty stress I complain about. I just hope that this quaint journal can act as a magnet, and help drain that stress from my ever expanding body.

To be continued...